In the Name of Love
by IcyPanther
Summary: Lance just wanted to buy a flower. Instead he's now the newest victim of a serial killer who has no plans to release him until he has served his purpose. Lance may be a Paladin but he's got a higher calling in life now. And it starts with his death. / "Do not try and resist again," his captor warned, "You will not like the consequences." Lance's voice cracked. "Like being eaten?"
1. One

**Timeline notes:** Anywhere really in season four or five minus you know, big crazy season-ending events.

 **Warning notes:** Typical violence, blood and gore you get when dealing with me ;p

 **xxx**

 **In the Name of Love**

 **xxx**

 **xxx**

He was tied to a chair.

He was _tied_ to a _chair._

Or, well, at least Lance thought he might be. It sort of felt like that even though he really had nothing to compare it to since this had never happened to him before. But his hands were wrenched uncomfortably behind him and immobile, something hard-edged was digging into his upper back, he could feel the seat edge butting up against his knees and his ankles were lashed to what he imagined were the legs.

See, chair. It made perfect sense.

Now if only he could make sense of _why_ he was tied to a chair. That would be good.

Oh, and blindfolded. He identified that part a tick later, blinking his eyes and feeling his lashes brush against something, as if the pitch blackness of his vision hadn't been enough. And, yup, gagged too as he went to make some sort of noise – torn between being polite and calling out a "hello?" and screaming for help as any sane person would do who found themselves tied to a chair with no recollection of how they got there.

Deep breath. Deep breath. He tried to take his advice and near choked as whatever the gag was – something that covered his entire mouth to the point where he couldn't even move his lips – blocked him from taking in air that way and his nose burned at the sudden rush.

Shallower breath. There. Good. And again.

Once he was no longer in danger of hyperventilating himself into unconsciousness, Lance scrunched his eyes behind his blindfold and tried to remember _how_ he got into this mess so he could figure a way out of it.

They were on planet Ubax. He remembered that part. And unlike most planets they encountered, Ubax was almost like Earth in that it had various countries (a total of four) and each one of those had its own wide network of cities and towns and culture.

Voltron had arrived to speak with all four leaders of Ubax about forming an alliance and had chosen to settle the Castle down on the outskirts of the Jeyclid's capital, Jeyliva. And Jeyliva… it was literally like being back at Garrison City.

The Jeyclids – humanoid in shape, very slender but super tall (the shortest one he'd seen was Shiro-sized), with skin that ranged from light olive to forest green and smooth heads with these tiny little bumps that served as their ears on top – lived in cities made up of metal and wood. They had skyscrapers and three-story buildings and shops and sidewalks and street vendors and restaurants and –

It was a bit overwhelming, but in a good way. They even had _newspapers_ and Lance could not recall the last time he'd actually held paper. He'd purchased one for the heck of it to hold it and had flipped through the crinkling pages just as his papá did every Sunday morning. The cover story had been about a serial killer still at large – and Lance supposed that when you had a setting like this you got the crazies and problems that came with them – that he skipped over, choosing instead to peruse a city council article about a new street tax, a few new business story, a feature on a local artist and then the real estate section because why not?

It was so _normal_ and he loved and hated it, homesickness eating away at him. Still, his curiosity and excitement to discover new things won out and he'd spent the better part of yesterday trekking all over the city with Hunk and Pidge checking out shops and restaurants and ending with a movie (a movie! He still couldn't believe it).

But on the second day, while Shiro and Allura were still engaged in talks, Pidge and Hunk expressed interest in spending it at a museum dedicated to Jeyclid's technology and science that was really more of a research building than anything, so Lance had declined the invite. Boring to the extreme.

He'd debated going around town on his own, but that wasn't as much fun. Coran though had asked if he could run an errand to pick up some parts he needed – as the advisor was taking full advantage of the break and doing quite an inventory and diagnostic run of the castle – and Lance had headed out.

Lance gave a tiny nod and a muffled hum behind his gag. He was remembering all of this clearly so far. What next?

He'd picked up the supplies Coran had needed, flirting with the very attractive Jeyclid and charming his way to a better deal, and ended up with some spare GAC. He'd been en route back to the castle when a flower shop had caught his eye, or namely the light blue and pink blossoms in the window that reminded him of Allura. He'd grinned and strolled right in pick her up a bouquet.

The shopkeeper had been a very dark olive and had lit up with a near maniac glee when Lance entered. Lance remembered thinking the guy must not get a lot of customers this early in the day. Or, perhaps, it was the sheer amount of flowers he was attempting to buy when he found out how cheap flowers were here and how many he could get with his spare GAC. He was in the process of getting a bunch for Pidge too – a green and pink tiny bloom that smelled like kiwis – when the shopkeeper called him over to the front counter and insisted he look at the small succulent he'd pulled.

It was nothing pretty like the flowers, but it had its own unique aesthetic with a giant circular type green flower, and Lance did so love collecting potted plants for his room. He'd gone in to smell it – everything here smelled strangely of Earth fruits – and he'd been hit with the cloying smell of lilac and tangerine and then…

Lance jerked his head up, eyes widening behind his blindfold. He couldn't remember what happened after that! He'd smelled the flower plant and then… and then…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

What the quiznak had happened?

With a muffled grunt he attempted to move his hands again but the rope – or, well, something that felt infinitely more smooth to his searching fingers, but functioning in the same way – was well and tight. He tried then turning his face towards his shoulder but only his chin was able to brush against it thanks to the tight pull of his arms behind him.

Just as he was about to try rocking the chair forward to see if it was bolted down or not (although why lying on the ground was a better option than sitting he hadn't figured out if it did give) there was the sound of a door opening and Lance went still.

Footsteps sounded, light and quick, and they stopped directly in front of Lance. A moment later something touched his face and with a _rip_ that made his eyes water as his skin was yanked the blindfold that was apparently band-aid like was removed.

Blinking through his tears he made out the figure of a dark skinned Jeyclid, yellow and green flecked eyes wide. Lance blinked again. He knew this Jecyclid.

It was the flower shopkeeper.

He smiled at him, white teeth nearly glowing against his face. "Hello," he whispered, breath ghosting over Lance's face, sending the back of his neck prickling. A smooth four-fingered hand came up and cupped the side of Lance's face and he resisted the urge to shudder as it traced down his cheek.

What. The. Hell?

He chose to go with anger over the fear that was trying to take root at the touch, to say nothing of the situation. He jerked his head away but the hand followed it, tightening almost painfully on his chin.

The gag was apparently of the same make and Lance's lips tingled beyond pain as it was yanked off without warning, a harsh inhalation torn from him as surely as he swore skin had been.

He immediately leaned forward, trying to bite at the fingers that were lingering by his face but the alien pulled back with a cluck of his tongue.

"Now, now, none of that if you please. I do not like violence."

"Don't like…" Lance repeated incredulously, tasting blood on his lips. "What is _this_ then?"

"You are merely restrained," the florist said, fingering the gag he'd removed that Lance realized now was some sort of leaf. "I would prefer if you would not resist. I do not like violence but I will resort to it if I must."

That seemed to be all the alien had to say as he turned to walk away.

"Hey!" Lance shouted after him, craning his neck awkwardly around to keep the alien in his sights. "Get back here! We are not finished!"

"I must hurry to make preparations. You came so soon after my last one I am lacking in proper supplies. But do not worry. I will return soon."

"Last one? What are you—?"

But the door closed with a snap behind the Jecyclid and Lance's question hung in the air.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, this time at least air easy to come by, and then take actual stock of his surroundings now that he could see them.

He was in some type of storeroom by the looks of it, a table on the far wall piled high with ribbons and vases while unused flower stands and racks cluttered the rest of it. Still likely in the flower shop, Lance surmised, which meant he was still downtown. Good. Downtown meant people. People who could hear him scream for help.

He stopped himself though before he belted out. It wasn't that he was too proud to do so. Nope. While he could definitely see Keith being the stubborn mullet he was and maybe even Shiro (to start, at least) be that way, he had no qualms about doing so. Not when he'd been apparently kidnapped by some crazy florist.

No, it wasn't pride. It was observation. And it sounded like the florist had – he shuddered – done this before, if "last one" meant anything. He wouldn't have taken the gag off if he had actual concerns of someone hearing him. Which meant that either he was no longer in the flower shop or the entire day had gone by and there were no longer any customers to hear him if he did scream.

And based on the rumbling in his stomach that wasn't entirely to deal with nerves and the terrible crick in his neck now that he was aware of it, Lance could conclude he had been here for at least a few hours.

Did anyone even realize he was missing? Coran would be missing his parts, surely, but if he had gotten sidetracked in another inventory he might not. Allura and Shiro were in talks all day until they came back to the castle to sleep and Pige and Hunk obviously wouldn't be expecting to hear from him while they were at the museum.

And while Lance had pretty much ruled out that yelling was moot at this point, he had learned to always cover every option. So tilting his head back he screamed out "Help!" and then waited, throat aching at the sudden harsh volume.

After a counted thirty ticks of nothing he went back to his original observation. No one could hear him.

Great.

Okay, so what did he have to work with? He shimmied in the chair – and ha! He had been right about that – and noted that the legs were loose. That was good. He could maybe maneuver the chair a bit if he could find somewhere useful to go.

His eyes lighted on one of the shelves a tick later. It looked to be made of metal as everything on Jeyclid was and metal was _sharp_. A grin lit up his face. If he could just get over there and cut the bindings on his hands he could get out of here.

Good. Good plan. He'd pat himself on the back if he could but since he couldn't he settled for tapping his fingers awkwardly against one another.

Now to move. He had to be careful because if he overbalanced and fell he wasn't sure he was going to be able to get moving again; not with the way his ankles were strapped so his toes skimmed the floor and his hands were tied at the mid-back of the chair.

"Piece of cake," he muttered under his breath as he threw all of his weight to the left and forward and immediately followed it with a toss to the right. The chair rocked and scooted forward maybe an inch. Only about one hundred and fifty to go.

"So easy," he pep talked himself as he achingly slow moved across the room.

Not even two feet shuffled across though his breath was coming in harsh pants and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. Okay. Not as easy as it looked. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth were starting to ache but he couldn't help it as one wrong tip could send him crashing to the ground where he'd be completely helpless and at the mercy of the florist.

And he really, really didn't want to be here when said florist returned.

Lance prided himself his sharp eyes, both in sniping and in observing. And right now his brain was recalling the tiny bits of newspaper he had skimmed through on the serial killer and _Dios,_ he could not really be that unlucky, could he?

There'd been six bodies so far, he remembered, five Jecyclids and one Ubaxian from the southern country. Each body been found in various parks around the city after being reported missing around a week before, no outward fatal trauma reported but the paper had said autopsies revealed the victims had literally had their insides removed without a trace. One doctor off record had gone on to say it seemed, based on internal bruising and defensive wounds of various shades that the victim's had likely been alive. Lance had stopped reading after that, not needing any more nightmares that the war hadn't already caused.

Now he sort of wished he had finished because he had a terrible, sinking feeling he'd somehow gotten wrapped up in it.

Why did the universe seem to hate him?

But he wasn't this florists's typical victim. At least, he really hoped he wasn't. He was a Paladin of Voltron, ace sharpshooter and, he liked to think, pretty quick on the uptake. He wasn't some poor, helpless Jecyclid who had gone in to purchase a flower and ended up being tortured to death. Nope. Not him. Not his fate.

His eyes narrowed. And when he got free that florist was going to pay for what he had done. Lance would see to that.

He'd reached the shelf now, chest heaving from this efforts. Unfortunately, he realized a moment later that none of the shelves lined up with his hands.

Fear spiked in his chest and he hurriedly fought it down. Not now. He had to _think._

The unit had a lower shelf that was not flush to the ground; hovering a couple inches up. If he were to tip over that should be at a height he could rub his wrists against. But… but if he was wrong or it didn't cut then he was stuck on the ground.

And what, he snorted, being stuck tied to the chair was better? This was his best option.

Before he could over think it, Lance threw all of his weight to the right. There was that split-second sensation of being suspended as the chair hovered on its two legs that made his stomach swoop before gravity took over. His crashed hard a moment later, shoulder aching where it had taken the brunt of the fall and stars dotting his eyes where his head had hit the shelf coming down.

He gave himself a minute to reorient himself and then reached out groping fingers, nearly crying with relief when the encountered the shelf. He pressed his bound wrists to it and began the second agonizingly slow process of moving them up and down. Bit by bit he could feel the tension lessening. Something cold and sticky was dripping onto his fingers.

Sap, he concluded, rubbing it between his thumbs. Made sense. The guy had already used a leaf as a gag, why not vines as rope?

A few long ticks later and there was enough give for him to pull at the vines and they let go with a wet snap. Lance lay there for a moment, in disbelief that had actually worked. He brought his arms back to his front – and _Dios_ that _hurt –_ and angled his torso down to pick at the vines holding his ankles tight. Between his nails digging into the plant and his desperate strength they were torn apart shortly thereafter.

Lance rolled off of the chair then and carefully stood, legs shaking with pins and needles and a mixture of adrenaline and fear. He rolled his shoulders and massaged his hands with each other, trying to bring back feeling to sleeping limbs while the rest of him felt jittery.

Okay. He was free. Now what?

There were no windows in the storeroom so the only exit was the door the florist had gone through. The room didn't have much in the way of items to be used a weapons, but Lance grabbed a cylinder shaped glass vase. It wasn't terribly thick but if he cracked it across the florist's face he was sure it would at least do something. Still, he shuddered, he'd rather avoid him completely. While slender the Jecyclids were still big and the florist was an easy seven feet. Lance didn't relish his chances against trying to take him out.

"You've got this," he whispered, voice sounding too loud in the quiet room but he needed to hear it. "You're going to be fine. Just go through the door, find the exit and run. Okay? Okay."

Save the heroics for later. He needed to get to the castle, relay the situation, and then the authorities could descend. The last thing Allura needed was some type of international incident during alliance talks because Lance went vigilante justice on her. That was a Keith thing. _He_ was the level-headed one.

His hand settled on the knob, blood pounding wildly in his head. And with the gentlest of turns he eased it open and stepped over the threshold.

On the plus, no florist in sight. On the negative no exits either.

Just a hallway full of doors with no signage above any of them. Well, he supposed he needed to pick one.

He opted for the door right next to him, the handle cool to the touch. He grinned. Yes. Jecyclid got rather chilly in the evenings and he'd already anticipated he had been here for a good part of the day. This one must lead outside.

Turning it he expected to see a possible back alley to the shop. Instead he realized it was not an exit at all but another storeroom, a cooler rather, much larger though, that housed cut flowers to keep them fresh. He was about to step back and try another room when a doorknob across the hall turned and Lance swore his heart stopped.

He dove into the dully blue-lit cooler and pulled the door closed with a quiet snap behind him, heartbeat thundering in his ears. The Jecyclid hadn't seen him, had he? Or this door close? There was no lock on it, Lance cursed.

Then again, he shivered, he didn't want to stay in here for long. It was no freezer but it certainly still wasn't comfortable. Maybe mid-thirties?

Lance retreated further into the cooler, which stretched much further back an anticipated, sharp eyes seeking any type of actual weapon he could use. Maybe a pair of gardening shears or clipping scissors?

But the only thing here were flowers and more flowers. He spotted a large bundle of the ones he'd originally been drawn to for Allura and scowled at them. "Traitor," he hissed as he passed them by.

As he was rounding the row he heard the telltale click of a door open and he ducked down behind a rather tall shelf that housed a white petaled plant.

"I know you are in here," came the smooth voice of the florist.

Lance did not respond to the bluff. There was no way he knew he was here.

"Your body temperature has registered thanks to the controls here," and oh quiznak, apparently he did know, "so there is no need to hide. Come out."

Uh, no. Lance clutched his vase tighter.

"Please, do not make me resort to violence. You will not like it."

Lance resisted his immediate thought to point out that he didn't like the non-violent approach either and swallowed down the retort. Quiet. Be quiet.

He could hear the light footsteps coming into the room and his ears strained to track where they were headed. He just needed to stay opposite them and then—

The room was plunged without warning into darkness and Lance barely bit down his squeak of surprise.

"My species can see quite well in the dark," was the explanation he received. "But I do believe whatever yours is cannot."

Oh _Dios._ Lance's heart was hammering now and his grip felt sweaty on the vase. Without the visual cues everything was so much _harder_ and the footsteps seemed to be echoing from all over. He knew, or he thought he knew, where he was relatively to the door. If he got up and—

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Found you."

Lance shrieked and whirled his vase around, feeling it shatter against the alien's leg and pieces of glass pelt his own face. The Jecyclid let out a sound of pain and surprise and the hand released him.

Lance wasted no time, jumping fully to his feet and sprinting.

He slammed into a table a tick later, breath knocked out of him from the force as it crushed into his stomach. But he was nothing if not quick and he scrambled atop it, flowers crunching under his body, and rolled off the other side towards what he thought was the row he'd come down.

Keeping one hand along the table edge Lance ran. The table disappeared a moment later and Lance kept going until he crashed solidly into a wall. Desperate hands flew over it seeking a doorknob that _had_ to be there.

Come on come on come on come on.

He could hear the alien moving now and he choked back a terrified sob.

There!

His hand landed on the doorknob and Lanced yanked it open, flooding the cooler with the yellow light of the hall. Lance tore out of the room and turned to another door, but a turn of the handle revealed it was locked.

He whirled to go to the next one but the Jecyclid was there then, large form bearing down with all the force of a freight train. Lance let out a strangled yell as the alien crashed into him and they both went tumbling to the ground.

He kicked out, foot smashing into the Jecyclid's side, but it didn't seem to faze him. Instead, two large hands came down and gripped Lance by his shoulders, digging in cruelly and the Jecyclid picked him up to slam him back down.

"I" – _slam_ – "did not" – _slam_ – "want to" – _slam_ – "use violence."

Lance's brain was rattling in his skull and stars were bursting in front of his eyes. The florist's eyes were mad now, unhinged as he lifted Lance up by his shoulders again.

But before he could be brought back down Lance forced himself to go completely limp and closed his eyes to feign unconsciousness. His back and head were _aching_ and he couldn't keep taking hits like that. He couldn't overpower the Jecyclid – clearly, he thought bitterly – so he was going to have to try something else.

And to his great relief the Jecyclid did not follow through with another hit but merely lowered Lance back down to the floor. A deep sigh then, as though somehow Lance was inconveniencing his kidnapper. He felt the larger alien rise but remained still, struggling to hold his breath so as not to give away the giant inhale he really wanted to take.

Footsteps again, moving away. Lance cracked open an eye and observed the Jecyclid going to a door he hadn't tried and opening it, a blast of hot air wafting out – greenhouse, he concluded – and disappeared inside.

Lance jerkily sat up, already feeling bruises forming across his back. He stumbled to his feet, bracing himself against the wall as the hallway spun in a dizzying circle and blackness encroached. No. No fainting.

He had to get out of here.

Lance blearily surveyed the doors, trying to remember which one's he'd already tried, more than turned around from the head bashing. Definitely not the door the florist had just gone into. He decided to try the last one on the hall and made his way over there as quickly as he was capable of moving.

Locked.

He resisted the urge to cry although his throat tightened regardless.

 _Dios._ All he'd wanted was to buy flowers.

The next one revealed the cooler so he skipped the next knowing it was the storeroom he'd first been in, and tried the one next to it.

The front counter of the store greeted him and he blinked at it.

The windows that led outside to the sidewalk showed it to be twilight and Lance trembled. He'd been gone a _long_ time.

But it was almost over. He almost cried again but this time in relief. He moved out from behind the counter and the motion turned on the store's lights, bathing the flower shop in a cheerful glow. Lance was beelining for the door now.

Shaking hands grasped the handle and…

…and it remained locked. " _Dios,_ no," he whispered, giving it another futile yank. This close and thwarted by another locked door?

He glanced to the side for something heavy to break out the window then. But as he looked up he caught sight of his reflection – frightened ocean eyes, bloodied lips and small cuts from the shattered glass peppering his face – staring back at him in the window… as well as the florist's.

"You are becoming most troublesome," the alien told him, rounding the display next to him with a long coil of black vines in his hand, while Lance frantically backpedaled to keep the alien in his sights. "But you will provide good sustenance for Aulie."

"Aulie?" Lance repeated, hoping for any sort of distraction as all he encountered were cut flowers and paper sleeves that would do nothing.

"My precious child. A beautiful specimen of the Varhany line. She takes a lot of upkeep but she thrives under my care."

Lance's brain fizzled. "Aulie is… a plant?"

The Jecyclid growled, offended. "A plant? A _plant?_ You dare trivialize her great beauty to a _plant?_ "

Lance just blinked. People were being murdered for… for plant food? _He_ was going to be killed for plant food?

He had known fighting the Galra was beyond dangerous and death was always a possibility that they all tried hard not to think on. But if he did die during the war he thought it would be in battle. Not… not like this.

If it wasn't so terrifying it might be kind of funny.

"Do not try and resist again," the florist told him, pursuing Lance's dogged steps as he still found _nothing_ that would make a dent. "You will not like the consequences."

"Like being eaten?" His voice cracked on the last bit. "By a _plant?"_

"Do not think of it in such barbaric terms. You are offering your insides so that Aulie may grow and flourish."

"Offer up your own then," Lance shot back, hand latching around a water pitcher.

"That is ridiculous," the florist sniffed. "She needs me to feed her. Without me she will not survive."

"What a tragedy."

The alien had closed the distance between them now and reached out a long arm. Lance slammed his pitcher at it but the thin metal flattened at the impact without doing any apparent harm. Lance cursed and shot out a leg, knowing his kicks were much stronger than his punches.

It connected and with an _"oof"_ the shopkeeper stumbled backwards. Lance made for the window again, figuring he'd just throw his body at it at this point and hoped it would be enough.

The air whistled behind him and he let out a short scream as something slammed against his back and he felt multiple points dig into his flesh. He spun around to see what it was, but all that did was make the pain worse and he realized a tick too late that by turning he'd just ensnared himself more as the object was the long, apparently thorny, vine the alien had been holding.

It cut across his chest, barbs sinking through his shirt fabric like it was nothing and dark red stains showed immediately through the gray cloth.

The alien jerked on his end and all of it came free with a terrible ripping noise and Lance cried out again, stumbling sideways from the momentum and pain and right into the waiting hands of his soon to be murderer.

He tried to wrench himself free of the tight grip but he was pushed down to the floor, a knee digging into his back. Still, he wasn't going down without a fight.

His arms and legs flailed out but one of his arms was caught. The vine was pressed against his wrist and he gasped as it bit deep into his flesh. His left hand was captured and pulled behind his back and the thorny vine was secured from his wrists up his arm.

 _Dios_ it _hurt_ and trying to shift his arms at all just made the spikes pull at his flesh more. Lance choked out a sob of pain and horror.

No. No.

This couldn't be how it ended.

"L-let me go," he tried to demand, although it came out a wavery mess.

"I cannot."

"I'm a P-Paladin," his breath caught as the florist pivoted on his back, knee grinding, and grabbed a still weakly moving ankle and stabbed it too with the vines. "Of Voltron," he continued over the pain.

"Oh," and there was definite surprise to the alien's tone. Lance felt a flicker of hope as the hands paused in binding his ankles together. A long hand reached back then and patted him atop the head. "I do thank you for your service. But it will no longer be required."

"St-stop," Lance pleaded. "Please don't," he gasped as his ankles were fully tightened, cutting right through his jeans. "Don't do this."

The alien pivoted again and his hands came to cup both sides of Lance's face. He jerked his head fruitlessly.

"I must. For Aulie. She is the only one who loves me and I love her."

"She's a _plant,"_ Lance choked out, trying to appeal to reason.

The alien's nails dug painfully. "She is my child. And you…" one of the hands moved to slap a leaf gag over his still tender lips, "are much too noisy. I do not like it."

Lance's whine as the shopkeeper grabbed him by his hair was swallowed up by the gag. He was dragged across the ground, hands helplessly bound behind him and ankles the same. He still tried to dig his toes in, hoping the rubber in his shoes would catch although it wouldn't do anything in the long run.

The front window was vanishing from sight and Lance stared past the reflected image of himself, desperately seeking anyone to be looking through it.

He choked on his next breath as the forms of Pidge and Hunk appeared, walking past the window and not yet looking in. He let out a muffled scream and apparently it was loud enough that the shopkeeper heard as he paused in dragging Lance to look up.

"Oh dear," was all he said, before he resumed dragging Lance, the window vanishing as he slid behind a stack of flowers and then the front counter. A knocking came on the door a tick later, polite and unhurried.

They hadn't seen him.

"Stay," the shopkeeper told him, pulling him further behind the counter and dropping him on his back. Lance screamed behind his gag as all of his body weight landed on his bound hands the spikes dug into his lower back.

The florist moved away, steps light, and opened the door with a little jangle. "I am sorry but I am closed," he said, voice carrying across the storefront.

"We're so sorry to disturb you," Hunk sounded then, polite but underneath it Lance could hear his fear. "A friend of ours has gone missing and we're looking to see if anyone saw him. He was out shopping earlier."

"Here," he heard Pidge say, her voice exhausted, and there was the soft sound of a datapad. "This is him. Goes by Lance."

Lance screamed for all he was worth and despite the horrendous pain it caused he picked his feet up and slammed them down against the ground. Unfortunately, it was on a rubber mat behind the counter that absorbed most of the sound.

Still, there was a tiny thump.

"What was that?" Hunk asked and Lance almost cried. Yes. Yes. He was right here.

"Hmm? Oh, I have a number of plants capable of moving and they can get a little feisty after hours."

"Cool," Pidge said, with a tired sort of enthusiasm.

No! No. _Dios,_ no, he was here. That was him. Hunk! Pidge! _Please!_

"As for your friend here, no, I am sorry I do not recognize him. I am sorry."

No! Hunk, no! _Dios, por favor. Please._ Lance let out another muffled shriek but no one said anything of it.

"Thanks anyway," Hunk said, voice heavy. "If… If you do please let us know. We're staying at the Castle of the Lions and the authorities are aware too."

"Of course. I wish you the best."

There was a quiet murmur of good nights and then the door shut and the lock clicked with a final air.

Tears were coursing down Lance's face that he couldn't even try to stop and he heaved out another sob.

No.

No.

The florist came back into his sight, a pleased little smile playing over his face. "Lovely friends you had."

He reached down and grabbed Lance once more by his hair, pulling him from behind the counter and through the doorway into the hallway filled with doors. Lance whimpered as the thorns dug deeper into his hands and back, but that pain had nothing on the shattering inside his heart.

"Now come," his captor said cheerfully as he dragged Lance towards one of the doors. "It's feeding time."

xxx

 **Author's Notes:**

See warning up top but this fic is finished. I know. (Edit: I will be making this into a two-shot. I can't leave it like this. I can't). I'm dying too. But this (horrifying but delicious fic) was commissioned this way by the lovely onesmolhurt/jaspurrlock. She requested a kidnap fic with a chase, almost escape and tying up and gagging. Bonus points if I could include Pidge and Hunk almost finding him. So. Close.

I am taking fanfiction commissions as a fundraiser to help out a dear friend of mine who is in a pretty critical financial situation. If you are interested in donating to her or commissioning a fic with all funds going to her situation, please see my Tumblr for details, icypantherwrites. No personal profits are being made for myself.

I have to say, this was so tough to write for me knowing that a happy ending was not happening. But it was sort of dark and fun too? Thank you, Jas, for both the commission and for turning me into even more of a monster. (I say that with love). I really hope you like it!

For everyone else reading, I hope you enjoyed it too! Again, please don't shoot the author for how this ended. If you have anything other than threats upon me please do drop a comment below. I'd love to hear from you!


	2. Two

**x**

 **In the Name of Love**

 **Chapter Two**

 **xxx**

The florist brought Lance to one of the locked rooms, humming below his breath. Lance closed his eyes so he didn't have to look, feeling tears dripping down his cheeks.

He still couldn't believe this was the end.

Another futile tug on the thorned vines that kept his hands bound behind him only sent the spikes in deeper and fresh blood dripping down his arms. Still, he tried. He could do nothing else and his whimpers of pain were muffled behind the gag.

They were as useless as all his attempts were.

He was hauled into the room and dragged towards a large sandbox on the ground. The sand inside was stained various shades of green and Lance faintly realized that must blood from the previous victims. The Jeyclids were pretty green all around, made sense their blood was too.

But the sandbox was the least of his concerns for looming above it was a giant, giant plant. That, he swallowed thickly, must be Aulie.

Aulie was nearly all dark purple vines that slithered towards them at their approach. It looked like the florist hadn't been entirely lying when he said he had plants capable of movement. At the center of the vine mass was a large bloom, purple and green that almost looked like a starburst with various shades of purples bleeding into the green edges. It was pretty, all things considered.

"Aulie, I brought you a present," the florist said eagerly, dropping Lance into the sand pit with a dull thud and going to the plant. It slithered vines about his shoulders and over his head and the Jeyclid leaned into it, petting his hands over it and crooning.

Lance thrashed helplessly in the sand, trying to do _anything_ other than lie here and wait for impending death. But he had barely managed to shift a couple inches before the florist was back and clucking his tongue.

"Now, now, struggling is pointless. This will be much less painful if you merely let Aulie do as she pleases."

The alien proceeded to push Lance back to his start position and then went over to the side of the box where a coil of regular rope was tied and brought it back. He threaded the rope between Lance's bound ankles and tied it into a tight knot over his left. Lance moaned as it dug the spikes even further in, his jeans no longer offering any deterrent.

A rope from the other side of the sandbox was brought over and the action repeated on his right leg although not fully tied. Before he did that the shopkeeper slice through the thorny brambles and pulled the entire length off without seemingly sticking himself once. Then he secured Lance's right foot, leaving his legs stretched and tied to the opposite corners of the box.

It didn't take a genius to figure out where this was going. He was going to be tied spread-eagle at the four corners. When the Jeyclid knelt down next to him so as to free Lance's bound hands from behind his head, Lance jerked his torso up and slammed the crown of his head like a battering ram at his captor, screaming behind his gag as the push off the ground had sank the thorns _through_ his wrist.

It was for nothing.

The hit besides making the Jeyclid grunt didn't seem to phase him and instead he shifted to grip Lance by his hair. "Now that was not nice," he said, giving him a shake and Lance felt more tears prick his eyes as his hair was pulled.

Without warning his head was slammed to the ground and the sand did little to cushion it. The Jeyclid repeated the action two more times and Lance felt his vision going in and out, wavering between falling unconscious and remaining awake. He almost wished he could get knocked out but his body was stubborn.

Not stubborn enough though to prevent his captor from removing his now freely bleeding hands from the vines and into the new rope restraints, the coarse cords sliding over the weeping wounds and stretching his limbs tight.

"There, all done." The florist wiped his hands on his apron, smearing red streaks of Lance's blood over the white. He reached down and patted Lance on the head and all Lance could do was try and shift it away without any success.

"This will be a bit painful," the Jeyclid told him. "I would offer you some herbs to dull the sensation but Aulie doesn't like the taste of them. But it won't be too long. Just about a week for her to fully harvest you."

A week.

Lance's struggles resumed with renewed vigor although all that did was dig the rope deeper into his already abused limbs and there was no give whatsoever on the strain.

"She tends to consume the intestines first and save the heart for last," the florist continued. "But you are a new species to her. She may wish to sample around so I'm afraid I cannot tell you where she may start her feeding. Your blood," he rubbed his fingers together, "has a unique scent to it and she may wish to start there. She seems quite taken with it already."

For while the florist was talking his plant had stretched long creepers out to the bloodied vine restraints and was lifting them up into her mass with all the tender care of a mother to her newborn. Lance could feel acid bile rising in his mouth but it had no where to go and so he choked it back down.

He tried to lock eyes with the florist one last time, to try and reason somehow, but the alien had eyes only for his plant.

Lance's shoulders shook.

He really was going to die.

This was it.

He closed his eyes, picturing his family. Mamá. Papá. His siblings. Abuela. Hunk. Pidge. The rest of his space family.

 _Dios por favor._ This could not be how it ended.

Hot tears slipped past his closed eyes, tracing high cheekbones to plop silently into the sand.

He wished he'd had a chance to say goodbye. To leave a note. Some closure.

 _Dios_ he didn't want to die.

"I will be in the greenhouse preparing some orders for pick-up tomorrow but I'll be certain to stop by and see how you both are doing before I retire for the evening," the Jeyclid spoke again, cutting into Lance's grief. He opened his eyes to try one last time, find one shred of mercy.

He found none.

The florist left the sandbox then and went back to the main part of the plant and patted one of the larger vines. "Enjoy your meal, Aulie. I'll see you soon, precious." He placed a kiss to the vine and without a backwards glance left the room, door swinging shut behind him.

Lance tilted his head backwards to look at the plant, which was flowing out of the dark space behind the sandbox and hauling its bulk towards him, vines slithering with a hiss through the sand. He wasn't honestly sure if he wanted to see what it was going to do or close his eyes and try to pretend this was not happening.

He jerked as a tendril touched his arm and it was joined by another on his other side. A smaller one came down and brushed against his cheek, rolling itself against a tear track. Lance moaned low in his throat.

The ones on his arms were sliding up and down it, some of the vines touching on the bloodied marks on his shirt and the holes stabbed into his wrists while others were angling towards his torso, skimming inside his armpit and he was too scared to be ticklish.

One slipped down the collar of his shirt and he whimpered as made its way down his chest, brushing against the small penetrations from the vine that had wrapped there, before continuing to his stomach where it dug its end into his navel and Lance gasped.

More were joining that one now, going under his shirt from top and bottom and writhing over his chest and stomach. Lance twitched but didn't go anywhere. The movement though seemed to excite them as suddenly they were rippling with even more enthusiasm and there was the sound of fabric ripping as they popped up through his shirt and pushed all of the fabric covering his torso aside.

The majority of the vines twining about him seemed to center there but a few more slipped down, wrapping around his legs while another prodded around the waistband of his jeans. And despite himself Lance felt his face flame as it managed to slip under and he felt it slide along his hip before snaking down along his outer thigh before coming back up and sliding now under his shorts.

 _Dios,_ he was going to be molested by a plant. Somehow that was even scarier than the prospect of dying and Lance renewed his struggles as it touched against his inner thigh and made to climb higher.

And then everything stopped.

The writhing, the twining, the moving. It came to a grinding halt as a long, thin and so dark it was almost black, vine appeared and pressed itself against Lance's face. He closed his eyes as it brushed at them, feeling it disturb his lashes.

It seemed to caress his cheek then and he shuddered, before it slipped further down. The other vines parted to let it move by unobtrusively and Lance let out a shallow breath as all of the other ones actually retreated, only the ropes now and this new, leader-like vine on him.

It landed on his stomach, circling his navel almost curiously. It lifted away then, hovering over him like some executioner's axe. Lance wanted to close his eyes but the fear of the unknown was greater.

His stomach was taut and his breath coming in shallow little pants that were swallowed up by the gag to the point where there were dark spots dancing in his vision from the lack of oxygen getting through.

What was it waiting for? For him to pass out or maybe—

Lance _screamed,_ head smashing back and his body angling up as the plant speared itself straight into his stomach, impaling him as surely as any spear.

And then it _moved,_ rippling beneath his flesh.

Lance could only scream again as it burrowed in deeper, writhing about in his stomach.

Oh _Dios. Dios Dios Dios._

It seemed to be looking for something and Lance distantly remembered the florist saying something about intestines. As if summoned the vine moved even lower inside him, a trail of fire in its wake and he was crying now, tossing his head back and forth as though that would somehow relieve the pain.

It did not.

It was only getting worse as the plant shifted his insides around in its quest for whatever it was trying to eat first.

Let him die.

 _Dios,_ let him _die._

He choked behind his gag as the vine pressed down, a pinpointed pressure of agony. It stopped moving then and Lance trembled, heart racing as the worst of the pain stopped with it.

And then pulsing, burning, stabbing torment.

The plant had dug itself into something inside of him and while it wasn't moving anymore he could feel _something_ was and from the corner of his eye he could see the dark vine quivering. He stared at it with glassy eyes, waiting for the pain to become so much he could find peace in unconsciousness.

It did not come.

Instead, he saw the tiniest bulge in the thin vine, inching its way down like a snake ingesting a rat.

There was something _inside_ the vine that had been _inside_ of him.

The lump moved with agonizing slowness down the vine and all he could do was watch it as it made its way to the main body of the plant with the flower, which had perched itself just to the side past his shoulder.

A few minutes later the piece disappeared into the large body of the other vines.

And then the same shooting agony swept through him as it happened again.

Lance sobbed. He was literally going to be eaten alive piece by piece.

Death could not come soon enough.

xxx

"Something is bothering me."

"Is it the florist guy? Please tell me it's the florist guy. I was getting this really weird vibe from him but I thought it was just me and—"

"Yes, Hunk, it's the florist," Pidge cut in. Hunk let out a huge breath next to her. She tapped her finger on the datapad. "I think we should go back."

"Why? What feeling did you get?" Hunk asked, even as he already was turning about and ushering them back the block they had walked.

"For being closed he sure did answer the door pretty quick," Pidge said. "It's like he was right there, in the front room although I didn't see any signs of him working on restocking or something."

"And that thump?" Hunk shuddered. "Like, moving plants can totally be a thing. Definitely not the weirdest thing we've seen. But nothing up front was moving. It was all cut flowers and stuff."

Pidge nodded. "Exactly. And even if it was coming from the back storeroom… I dunno, it seemed closer than that."

Hunk gulped. "You… you don't think that thump was Lance, do you?"

Pidge rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. "I don't know. I just… Something was off about him. Did you see how long he looked at Lance's picture? He took the pad out of my hand, Hunk. No one else did that."

"So what, the florist kidnapped Lance to…?"

"Grind him up and use him as topsoil, maybe feed him to a man-eating plant."

Hunk turned positively green and looked at Pidge in horror. "What?"

Pidge grimaced as her own words registered back at her. "Ugh. Ignore that. I'm… I'm sure Lance is fine. He's probably not even there, probably at some bar or arcade or something and freaking us all out for no reason."

"Lance isn't like that, Pidge," Hunk said quietly. "I know he can be a goofball and immature but… he wouldn't worry us like this."

"I know, I know. You're right. I just…" Pidge hugged her arms about herself. "I just don't want anything bad to have happened Hunk. I'd rather he gets a curfew and dressing down from Allura and Shiro then… then something worse." She looked up at him, honey eyes glimmering with a faint sheen. "We're supposed to be _safe_ here, Hunk."

"Come here," Hunk extended his arms and Pidge went straight into them. Hunk closed around her in a gentle embrace. "Everything is going to be all right. We'll find Lance, okay? He's going to be fine."

Hunk really hoped so at least. There was a churning in his gut that had nothing to do with the need to puke from Pidge's speculation that something really was wrong. It'd been there for a while now, ever since they got back from the museum and discovered Lance had been gone all day on an errand for Coran.

Shiro and Allura had been informed that Lance hadn't returned, but there was little the two of them could do as talks had moved into the dinner hour and they could not leave, not this close to closing negotiations. Coran had stayed behind in case Lance returned to the castle and Pidge and Hunk had taken to the streets to track down Lance.

Most stores were closed at this hour save for the restaurants and night-life, but they'd knocked gone everywhere they could and Hunk's unease had been building with every "no" they got. This really wasn't like Lance. Not even when they'd been on Earth had Lance ever wandered off without telling someone and he checked in if he was going to be out later than planned (Hunk was not sorry for being a mother hen, he was not).

They had even gone to the police station where they made a brief report, but it didn't sound like anyone was going to be actively looking for Lance. The officer they'd spoken with had seemed preoccupied and apologized several times that the department's resources were being stretched thin due to a serial killer whose newest victim had just turned up that afternoon.

Hunk had paled but the officer had been quick to assure them that he doubted their friend had gotten mixed up in that business as the killer so far was targeting only female Jeyclids and one female Ubaxian. It had reassured Hunk then but now? Now he was thinking the universe hated them and Lance had someone gotten himself mixed up.

Maybe, he worried his lip as he and Pidge picked up their pace back to the flower shop, Lance had seen something and had intervened. He could have been kidnapped too for his troubles, or… or…

Hunk refused to believe he was dead, lying in some dark alley all alone. No. Lance was not dead.

He was going to be _fine._

They reached the shop but this time all of the windows were dark. Pidge pressed her face up against it but stepped back a second later with a shake of her head. "Can't see anything."

"Do we knock?" Hunk asked, but Pidge shook her head. He sighed. "I had a feeling."

Pidge scowled though as she looked at the door. It was so un-advanced that it was a good old eye and lock combination rather than a keypad.

"Well fuck that," she muttered, eyes scouring the area and landing on the decorated rock beds that stretched along the sidewalks.

"Uh, Pidge—?"

"Give me your vest," she interrupted. "Need something to muffle the noise."

Hunk shrugged it off even as he moaned in distress. This was illegal, breaking and entering. Even if they did suspect that something nefarious was going on, what if it wasn't? Then they just broke down a door for no reason and—

"We'll pay for the damages," Pidge interrupted his thought stream. "If it really is just a florist shop. If Lance is in here though…" her eyes narrowed. "A door is the least of things about to break."

Hunk gulped. Pidge was _scary._

"Should we maybe go get the police? Or our bayards?" Hunk asked.

"I'm going in now," Pidge said, putting her pilfered rock into the vest and wrapping it about her hand. She smashed it into the front glass door with a dull crackle and then reached in and flipped the lock. The sharp tinkling of glass sounded as she pulled the door open and more of the pane fell out. "You coming?"

Hunk swallowed and nodded. He wasn't letting Pidge go by herself, absolutely not.

They entered the darkened shop but as they moved the overhead lights flickered on and Pidge cursed. "Hurry, hurry," she hissed even as she peeked behind every table. She glanced behind her where Hunk was stationary by one of the front displays. "Hunk!"

"Pidge." His voice was hollow and she hated how her heart seemed to leap into her throat. "Bl-blood."

She hurried back to where Hunk was standing frozen, praying maybe it was just some plant goop and Hunk's brain was playing tricks on him.

But no. That was definitely red blood splatter. It looked like it had been cleaned up, parts of the floor shining brightly in places as though recently washed, but this small section had fallen by the wayside as it was flung instead against the table legs.

Like it had been ripped from the body.

"Just… just a little bit," she shivered. "It… it could be…"

"It's Lance's." Hunk sounded resolute in this even as fear shook his voice. He turned on his heel abruptly for the back door of the shop. "Come on."

Now it was Pidge's turn to creep more tentatively behind as they entered into a hallway that had numerous doors lining it. Hunk strode over to the first one and yanked it open, revealing a broom closet. He shut it gently and moved to the next one, pausing a bit more here. A good thing, Pidge thought, as they didn't want to open the door and come face to face with a murderous florist, who clearly had means of hurting people.

She shivered again.

Hunk eased this one open, revealing an empty storeroom. The next one revealed a cooler. They stepped carefully into the blue-lit room.

"Hunk!" Pidge crossed quickly over to where there were a bunch of downed plants covering one of the tables. Some were crushed as though something had stepped on them while others had fallen to the floor.

"He was here," Hunk said grimly. "Look everywhere."

They ducked beneath every table and shelf with no luck. Pidge did find a few garden shovels though on the back wall and some spades and she and Hunk armed themselves with the tools. It was better than nothing.

They exited that room and the next one was locked. Pidge frowned at it, jiggling the doorknob without success.

"Skip it and come back?" Hunk asked.

"People lock things when they have something to hide," she said. "No. We're going in. I just need a bobbypin or something."

"What about some wire?" Hunk asked. "The ribbons in the storeroom had armature. We could dismantle it."

Pidge knocked a fist against Hunk's broad shoulder. "Excellent work." She hurried into the storeroom and grabbed one of the wide-band ribbons while Hunk remained in the hall. When she returned he had his ear pressed to the door with a frown tugging on his lips. "What is it?"

"I think I hear something," he said. "Can't make it out though."

"Just give me a tick and we'll find out." Pidge stripped the gaudy plaid away and took her new piece of wire and jammed it into the keyhole, tongue sticking out as she shifted it around. A few moments later there was a soft click and she grinned in success.

It fell away though as her hand twisted on the knob and Hunk gave her a nod to push it fully open.

This room had lights on, but they were a dull yellow gleam. There was definitely the sound of something, although even with the door open it was muffled. Their view of the room was blocked by a large shelf right next to the door so they inched cautiously out from behind it, garden tools at the ready for whatever they found.

They were not ready for what they found.

Lance was tied down in a giant sandbox, bare-chested with blood saturating his wrists and ankles. And above him was a giant, huge purple plant made up mostly of vines that were twined loosely about Lance's limbs. One the vines though was angled down and was _inside_ Lance's stomach.

The noise they were hearing was Lance apparently screaming, his head pressed all the way back and exposing his jugular that a few stray tendrils had wrapped about. As they stood in frozen horror the thin vine that was piercing into Lance's stomach gave a shudder and a bulge appeared in it that trekked across it.

"Holy fuck," Pidge whispered and her words broke the trance.

"Lance!" Hunk screamed, charging forward. He swore the plant turned to look at him, a large, purple and green flower angling in his direction, and then all of a sudden vines were racing towards him and there was a definite muffled scream from Lance as the one inside him ripped free with a shower of blood.

Hunk met the plant with his two spades, slashing at the stabbing vines. He hacked off one larger one and the plant shuddered, before attacking with a renewed vigor. Hunk realized quickly that while large the vines didn't seem capable of doing anything other than twining about him the almost black one was different. That one sliced a thin line along his cheek that had nearly been through his head.

"Holy cheeseballs!" Hunk dunked under it and sliced furiously at the vines trying to wrap around his wrist. "Pidge! I could use some help!"

But the girl was nowhere to be seen.

Hunk helped as the black vine came in for another pass and he barely managed to repel it with the spade. It shook itself, dazed, but not cut.

"Pidge!" Hunk yelped as more vines were managing to wrap themselves about his limbs now. "Pidge!" His voice was bordering just slightly on hysteria as his arms were pinned to his sides. "Pi—!" And now a vine had wrapped about his head and over his mouth.

"I'm coming!" Pidge appeared in his peripheral carrying a bucket of… fertilizer? She hefted it in up and it flew in an arc, splattering against the large flower and main part of the plant. The vines charged at her then but Pidge was already wielding her own dual gardening tools and she swiped the two against each other, generating a spark and it landed on the substance she had thrown.

Fire immediately engulfed the spot and spread out rapidly. The vines holding Hunk dropped away immediately as they rushed to try and pat out the flames, but Pidge was there again, throwing more fertilizer and the fire latched onto it with gusto.

Hunk wasted no more time and dived into the sandbox, slicing at the ropes holding his right foot while Pidge sawed at the left, the plant continuing to burn in the background. As soon as it finally snapped he practically threw himself at Lance.

Lance's eyes were scrunched closed but tears were still streaming down his face. Hunk let out a sob as he grabbed Lance's wrist and began hacking at the rope tied there.

"It's okay, it's okay," he chanted as the rope frayed. "I've got you, it's okay."

Lance didn't give any indication that he heard him.

The rope finally undid and Pidge's gave way a second later. Hunk wasted no time scooping Lance into his arms, hating that the action pulled a muffled groan but he didn't have time to be gentle, and jumping to his feet. He could still feel Lance trembling and he clutched him a little tighter.

"Go!" he shouted as Pidge cast a glance from his face to Lance's, who had buried it into the crook of Hunk's arms.

She nodded and pivoted, leading the way.

They tore out of the room and back into the door-filled hallway and then into the shop front. The shopkeeper either hadn't heard them – and the room they had been in did seem soundproofed – or hadn't made it down, but they encountered no obstacles as they fled out the front door and into the darkened street.

The roadway was empty, this part of the city entirely closed down for the evening. The castle was still a good fifteen minute run and opposite the police station and hospital.

"St-stop," Hunk panted after they'd made it a few minutes away from the flower shop. Lance was trembling worse in his arms, squirming now too and Hunk was afraid he was going to drop him. Pidge skidded to a halt as Hunk lowered Lance to the sidewalk. Lance immediately curled on his side, hands going to his lower stomach and made a muffled keening noise that shattered Hunk's heart.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay," Hunk tried, even though he had no idea if it actually was. That plant had been doing _something_ inside Lance's stomach after all. He could have internal damage and he _really_ needed to get into a pod but Lance was shaking and scared and the last thing he needed was to be stuffed into a cryo pod in this state. He hadn't come outright and said it, but Hunk had noticed how his best friend had developed an aversion to small spaces, including cryo pods, after the castle tried to kill them.

Pidge crouched down next to them and placed two small hands on Lance's upper arm over what remained of his shirt sleeve. "Lance?" she whispered, voice small. "It's us. Please. We need to get you to the castle."

"He's got a gag," Hunk muttered, inching his way around Lance to get a better view of his face that he'd turned away. Tears were still tracking down his cheeks. "Oh, Lance," he murmured. "Here, let me get this off."

The gag was some sort of leaf that seemed to be stuck on with its own natural adhesive. Hunk winced as he dug his finger under one edge of it, feeling the resistance and Lance moaned as it pulled. "Sorry, _hermano,_ just a tick." Hunk yanked on it, figuring it was going to suck regardless and Lance gasped as it cleared, revealing bloody lips.

His face scrunched up a moment later and Hunk had a lot of experience with that look. He just managed to turn Lance more to the side and lift his head before Lance was vomiting, shaking and crying as he did so. Hunk could only hold him and Pidge shifted to run her hands through his hair as he expelled another round. Hunk was alarmed to see blood in the mixture.

When Lance moved to dry heaving Hunk went to sit him up, but Lance let out a strangled scream and Hunk froze. Something warm touched his hand that was resting on the ground next to Lance and he realized it was a gush of blood from Lance's stomach.

Hunk barely turned in time to puke himself and Pidge caught Lance's head before it could hit the ground and then lowered him back down.

"Lance, hey, hey," she tapped the side of his face, avoiding the reddened skin around his mouth. "Come on, Lance. Open your eyes. It's _us._ Pidge and Hunk."

Those seemed to be the magic words as ocean eyes flew open, reddened with tears and pinpricked with fear. They latched immediately onto Pidge's own and she held that scared gaze even though all she wanted to do was turn and cry herself because Lance should not _ever_ look like that.

"P-Pidge?" he rasped, voice barely there.

"That's my name," she mustered up a smile.

"Right here too, _hermano,"_ Hunk said, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"H-Hunk?" Lance's gaze roved to Hunk's.

His face crumpled a second later and he let out another sob that shook his entire body.

"I… I th-thought… I… I…"

"Shh," Hunk murmured, running his own hand through Lance's hair. "It's okay. It's over now."

"I…" Lance broke off with a groan, trying to curl in himself.

"We've gotta get you to the castle," Hunk said. "I'm gonna pick you up again, okay?"

"H-hurts."

"I know, I know," Hunk comforted, sliding one hand beneath Lance's shoulder's and the other at the crook of his legs. The stomach wound gave another trickle as Hunk slightly compressed his legs and Lance went pale beneath his tan.

"I'll run ahead," Pidge said, standing as the two rose. "Have Coran start a pod." She reached over and picked up Lance's dangling hand, blood staining his fingers, and tucked it up against his chest after giving it a little squeeze. "See you soon."

She took off in a dead sprint while Hunk moved quickly but not at the pace he had been as every step seemed to be hurting Lance.

"Th-thought I was gonna d-die," Lance mumbled into Hunk's chest, still shaking. "S-saw you. In the win-d-dow."

Hunk froze midstep. "The window?" he repeated. "That… that thump was _you?"_

He felt Lance nod.

"Oh, Lance," he cuddled him a little closer as Lance shivered. Hunk wished he had a blanket or something to offer but his vest was covered in shattered glass in his cargo pocket and at this point it was inconducive to put Lance down so he could shrug out of his own.

"You came b-back?" Lance coughed then and Hunk felt something wet and warm dribble into his shirt.

Blood.

"Something seemed fishy," Hunk said.

" _Gracias."_

"I wish we'd gotten their sooner," Hunk shrugged off the thanks. "I'm so sorry, Lance. But we'll get you in a pod and everthing will be all right."

Lance made a little mumble.

"I think we killed the plant," Hunk said as the castle came into sight, all of the floodlights on, anything to say to keep Lance awake and talking.

"R-really?"

"Yeah. Pidge set it on fire."

Lance made a sound between a sob and a laugh then and Hunk felt more dampness soak into his shirt. "G-good riddance."

The door to the castle opened without prompting – Pidge, Hunk was sure – and he raced as quick as he could to the infirmary. Coran and Pidge were there, the Altean holding a cryosuit at the ready.

Lance seemed to have calmed somewhat at the familiar presence of the castle and he was mostly silent as Coran and Hunk helped him out of his shoes and bloodstained pants and the tattered remains of his shirt and into the white suit. His abdomen, Hunk realized, not his stomach, continued to let out a steady stream of blood.

"We'll have you feeling better in a jiffy, Number Three," Coran said cheerfully although Hunk could see the steel in those jeweled eyes. "Nothing to worry about, all right?"

"Th-thanks, Coran," Lance managed as Hunk lifted him off the exam table and over to the pod.

"Pidge?" he called out as Hunk settled him into the narrow space and he tried not to focus on the tight compartment and the pain standing caused as his insides seemed to be shifting around.

She jerked her head up from where she'd stationed herself by the door, not ready to leave but giving Lance privacy as he changed. She looked so worried and scared and Lance hated that he had caused that. He didn't like that look on anyone, but especially Pidge.

"Nice job. With the f-fire."

A tentative smile lifted on her face and most of the fear disappeared. "It seemed like a fitting end. Now," she ground a fist into her palm, "we go for the florist."

Lance let out a short laugh that he immediately regretted as his insides lit themselves on fire and it turned into a cry he couldn't bite back.

"S-sounds like a pl-plan," he choked out over their concerned cries of his name. "Tell me… all about it l-later?"

"You got it," Pidge nodded.

Lance managed a wavery smile at that and then Hunk was giving his hands one last squeeze and the door to the pod was sliding closed. A moment later it filled with frost and Lance was lost to sight.

"Number Five, can you contact the authorities please?" Coran said, once he was certain the pod had activated properly. "Relay what has happened. I will contact Princess Allura and Number One and update them to the situation. Number Two, I request you take a shower and decontaminate yourself." Hunk glanced down and felt his stomach heave as the entire front of his shirt was splotched with blood.

Oh God, how much had Lance lost?

Coran placed a hand on Hunk's shoulder. "He will be all right. You and Number Five did an excellent job."

"He could have died," Pidge whispered, coming over to their huddle and both men drew her in to the circle. "He could have actually died."

"But he did not," Coran said quietly but firmly. "Let us focus on that, hmm?" The advisor gave them another minute to stand there before he clapped his hands. "Hop to it, Paladins. When you're done you may of course return to keep Number Three company."

The next few varga passed by in a blur. The authorities were contacted and went to the flower shop along with Pidge, who was not going to rest until she saw the bastard who had done this to Lance in custody. They'd found him crying next to the burnt remains of his plant and he had offered no resistance as officers cuffed him and led him out. They had retrieved sand from the box and said the blood that had soaked in would likely show matches to the now seven other victims.

Justice in Jeyliva was done via the courts but victims or family members of the victims if they were unable to speak for themselves were allowed to be a part of the proceedings. One of the officers told Pidge quietly he had no doubt that he would receive the death penalty for the murders. Pidge had given a sharp smile at the news.

The initial scan on the cryo pod revealed that in addition to the puncture wounds, one of which had come dangerously close to severing the main artery, the worst wound was that part of Lance's small intestine had been literally eaten, leaving gaping holes along about a foot-length section. Because the material was actually missing the cryo pod could not simply heal it as though it had merely been cut and of course the pod could not regenerate the missing flesh.

Fortunately though it looked like there would not be any real lasting damage as the intestine had merely shrunk in on itself (Coran thought the whole thing was fascinating as apparently Alteans did not have intestines) and was absorbing itself accordion style to make up for the damage. Coran estimated that based on the scans Lance would suffer no long-term problems.

He was going to be in the pod for another day though and Hunk was already frantically baking to make all of Lance's favorites for when he was out.

Their roles in apprehending the serial killer did have one other unexpected consequence: the holdout southern country of Ubax had been swayed to join the Alliance. The Ubaxians had wanted to hold a grand celebration in their honor but Allura had politely declined as Lance would not be present for it and she, as well as the rest of them, had had quite enough of the planet for now.

Lance still had over half a day to go in the pod, but Pidge and Hunk had staked out the infirmary so they would be there when Lance awoke and were plowing through a tray of cookies Hunk had brought down.

"It was too close."

Hunk lifted his head at Pidge's quiet words. "What?"

"It was too close. If Lance hadn't escaped to the front, hadn't managed to alert us to something and given us that off feeling…" Pidge shook her head, recalling the testimony the florist had relayed to officers, sparing no detail, sobbing that he had done it for his child, all of the murders had been for a plant. Pidge had never been so disgusted in her life.

Hunk scooted over and draped an arm about her shoulders. "I know. We got lucky. Really lucky." He closed his eyes and tugged her closer.

"The crazy things people do in the name of love," Pidge muttered.

"Like battling a man-eating plant without any real weapon to save a member of our family?" Hunk asked, giving her a little nudge.

A little smile turned up her lips and she turned her gaze to the pod, where Lance was floating and looking at peace.

In the name of love, huh?

"Yeah," she murmured. "Something like that."

 **Author's Notes:**

So this sort of got away from me a bit. I was hoping to wrap this up in under 3k words, but hah, it's cool, take 6,500. Nothing quite like making the second chapter longer than the original finished one. Hahahaaaaah. As a reminder, this second part is not a commission, but me being the Disney-girl I am and needing both a happy ending and closure to the commissioned piece (chapter one).

Anyways, happy ending, check. Lance has been rescued (after being tortured and nearly traumatized by Aulie) and our florist has been brought to justice. All in a day's work.

Enjoy the fic? **Please please leave a comment below!** Seriously guys, please give the author some love. Thank you!


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